Page 16 of The Darkest Parts of Me

She strolls off as I unpack the new light. Installing it will take longer than fixing the sink, but I don’t mind. Soon, we go back to our tasks, Tova unpacking, me pulling wires and twisting screws into place. After some time, headlights flash through the windows.

“Finally! I was starting to wonder if she was ever coming home,” Tova says, peering out the window. I now understand why she was anxiously observing it before; she was anticipating Maven’s arrival. “Maven, I thought you’d be home hours ago,” Tova says as the front door creaks open.

Maven steps inside, and her eyes immediately find mine as I practically hang from the ceiling. I feel a little vulnerable in this position, especially with those piercing blue eyes on me. Those eyes—they were the first thing that grabbed my attention this morning. I could hardly pull away from them then, and I’m having a hard time doing so now.

“Sorry, Mom, I went to Val’s and we got to talking. You know how it can be with her.”

“I do, but you could have texted me.”

Maven inhales sharply, regarding her mom for a moment before she exhales, as if she’s contemplating saying something harsh, but instead says, “I know. I’m sorry, but here I am, safe and sound.” Her smile is tight, almost appearing forced. It’s hard not to notice the sudden tension in the room. “So, you’ve got him working on other projects already. You’ve known him for, what? Three hours?” Maven adds, crossing her arms and giving her mom a disapproving smirk, but Tova completely ignores the last half of her statement.

“He was already here, so we thought he might as well.”

Maven snaps her eyes back to me. “We?”

“It’s true. I offered a hand,” I say.

She glances at her mom and then back at me. “You don’t have to do everything she tells you.”

“Oh, Maven, honestly,” Tova scoffs, turning her back to us as she places something into the cupboard.

Maven rolls her eyes and then mouths, Sorry.

I shrug and mouth back, “It’s okay,” then wink at her. She blinks, averting her gaze, but I notice the way she nervously plays with her hair, wrapping it around her fingers repeatedly.

“Well, I’m gonna take a shower,” she announces loudly, placing her hands behind her back, almost like she’s anxious.

Tova doesn’t bother returning the stare as she responds, “Mkay. We’ll just be out here.”

Maven promptly walks away without another word, and I watch her until she reaches the set of stairs leading up to the loft. I return to the light as Tova continues placing more items into cupboards. The odd strain in the room lifts slightly.

As I twist the last screw into place, I hear Maven making her way down the stairs. I pretend to be preoccupied with the light, but I catch her out of the corner of my eye, slipping into the bathroom, followed by the sound of running water.

“Oh my,” Tova says in a revenant voice. She stands, holding a worn notebook in her hands. “I was wondering where this ended up. I thought it might have been lost forever.” She skims through the pages, and I notice the care in which she handles them. I can’t help my curiosity getting the best of me.

“What did you find?” I jump down from the stool to move closer. She glances up, smiling, but I notice tears in her eyes.

“Sorry,” she says, dabbing at her eyes. “This was my husband, Marc’s, old sketchbook. We always meant to get these framed.” She gestures for me to come closer. I hesitate because it feels like whatever she’s holding is deeply personal, too important for a stranger. As I look at the notebook, I see what appears to be building plans for a structure of some kind. “Marc was an architect,” she explains, noticing me inspecting the images. “The first thing he designed was this cabin. I wanted to hang these up somewhere, but kept putting it off.” She surveys the room, as if picturing where to hang them. “Maven will be happy to see these.”

I can still hear the shower running, and for a moment, I think about not saying anything, but the question is out before I can stop myself. “What happened to Marc? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Her focus dips to the sketches, a solemn smile on her lips. “It was a car accident. About five years ago. Maven and Marc were driving back to the cabin after going into town one evening. Marc passed, and Maven . . . well, she somehow survived.”

A handful of stories the town locals mention from time to time come to my memory. Major incidents have occurred in the town’s history—lost hikers and such are spoken about regularly. But I have heard more than one reference to “the accident,” like it stood out from the rest for some reason, and now I understand why. I never inquired more about it, since it happened before I arrived in Solitude Ridge. Still, hearing this now, I realize the significance of these two returning to town—it’s much more than an overdue visit, they haven’t returned because of tragedy. I feel guilty for asking, now that she’s telling me so much about their story, and without Maven present, it feels a bit invasive, but I’m not sure what else to do.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” is all I think to say as she dabs at her eyes again.

“Thank you for saying that. I don’t mean to blubber over every small thing. After all, it’s been years now, but I still miss him, you know?” I only nod in response because I do, but in a different way. “Every day I’m so grateful Maven survived. I’m not sure what I would have done if I lost them both.”

I try to think of something comforting to tell her, to let her know I understand loss on a major scale, but instead, I say, “I’m glad you have each other.” She smiles warmly, both of us sitting in silence for a moment. I look back at the light. “I think that should do it,” I say, breaking the silence as I switch the light off and on a couple of times to make sure it works. “I’ll let you two get back to your unpacking.”

I feel bad, trying to rush out, but then she rests a hand on my arm.

“Thank you so much, Renn. Hopefully, I didn’t ask too much of you, especially after just meeting you . . . this morning.” She smiles but then winces, sagging her shoulders like she’s just realizing it was a bit odd.

“Not at all. Like Tasha said, that’s how we do things here.” And I mean it.

The shower is still running, and I decide it’s probably best to leave before Maven returns. Tova clearly doesn’t seem to mind one bit that I’m observing so much of their lives, but I doubt Maven would feel the same. I picked that up from our small exchanges already.

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